


From the Frost

by MachineQueen



Category: RWBY
Genre: Age Difference, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-11-18 15:31:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18123107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MachineQueen/pseuds/MachineQueen
Summary: Winter is one of General Ironwood's most trusted operatives and she likes it that way. It's not protocol to have a crush on your commanding officer, so she does her best to avoid thinking about it.But when the two of them end up trapped in a very small airship under threat of attack, it becomes difficult for feelings to stay hidden...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Something of a rare pair, so of course it happens to be my girlfriend's favourite.
> 
> I don't really write feelsy/angsty stuff (does this even qualify?) so I'm sorry if that shows.

“Operative Schnee?”

Private Niko approached. He was one of Winter’s favourites - quiet, got on with whatever was asked of him and didn’t ask too many questions. She had picked him for this mission, thinking that it would be a good chance for him to prove himself. Soldiers like him made good specialists.

She pulled herself away from the snowy vista whizzing by below and turned to face him. He stood to attention and waited for her curt nod before continuing. 

“General Ironwood has requested that you join him in the pilot’s cabin.” Some soldiers hesitated to look her in the eye but Niko always met her gaze. She liked that, too.

“Understood.”

The ship trembled beneath them before Winter could dismiss the young gentleman. His eyes widened, though he quickly tried to cover his reaction. That was just the way of the Atlesian military - showing strong emotions wasn’t protocol. 

There were a lot of things that weren’t protocol but at least they were written down in black and white. After half a lifetime tiptoeing round her parents, having a defined code of behaviour to follow was a relief. You were right or wrong. No arguments. 

“A little turbulence. It’s quite normal,” said Winter.

...Lying wasn’t strictly protocol either but seeing the private’s face clear of worry let her know that she’d made the right choice. It was best to keep everyone calm while travelling the skies of Atlas. Panic would only seal their doom, as it had for so many others. 

Winter knocked before entering the pilot’s cabin. It felt like an archaic gesture in the sleek, modern ship but Winter always erred on the side of extreme politeness. Especially where the general was concerned. No one was more adept at making her palms sweat. The more she wanted to impress someone, the more nervous and awkward she felt. Over the years, she hoped she’d become better at hiding it but she cared especially about what the general thought of her. 

She paused before hitting the button that would give her entry. When she went in, General Ironwood was speaking quietly with one of the two pilots. When Winter took a cursory glance at the readings and warnings she could see flashing on their screens, she saw the weather was going to get worse. Not welcome news.

“Schnee. We're making an unscheduled stop,” said Ironwood, having taken a moment to notice her presence. “Flight conditions are due to deteriorate further.”

“How long will we be delayed?”

“A day or more.”

Winter hesitated. Then she decided as long as she was polite about it, she may as well speak her mind. General Ironwood always encouraged transparency among the soldiers.

“Sir, we don't have a day to wait. They'll die.” 

He flinched at that. She briefly saw a frustrated, helpless look cross his face before he re-assumed military neutral.

“With respect, ma'am, if we keep going then we'll die too.” Locke, one of the pilots, interjected. He had seen Winter through a few storms so she knew if Locke said it was bad, it was bad.

“This is a first class, top of the range ship. Is there no way we can go around, take a different route?”

General Ironwood hesitated before answering. “There is but it's still risky. I have decided that once we land at the outpost, I will take one of the specialist ships designed for blizzard conditions and head out with some of the AK-200s. This will be a good opportunity to test them for what they were made for; conditions too dangerous for humans.”

“You mean to go alone?“

“I do. You can meet me once the storm is clear.”

The thought of being left behind caused a thread of anger to simmer under her skin. She knew she should not take the decision personally - the general didn’t mean to suggest he lacked faith in her skill. Or he at least didn’t mean to suggest that. Winter was all too familiar with the instinct to struggle on alone instead of placing trust in others and she was almost certain the general was following that same instinct. 

“You want to go alone against the Grimm that are attacking the town. ”

“Yes. I can’t leave the town to its fate but neither can I send the soldiers on board this ship to their deaths.”

“But sir - when we joined the Atlesian military, we agreed to risk our lives.”

“That does not make your lives meaningless. I’ve weighed up the risks and made up my mind.”

Winter almost saluted and walked away. She almost gave in to the voice that told her she had to obey her commanding officer, even if he wanted to go alone into hell with only a few robots as back up. Someone like Locke or Private Niko would not argue. But there was a reason she was where she was and it wasn’t through keeping her silence. Her feet stayed rooted to the floor.

“Let me come with you.”

It sounded childish out loud. She wouldn’t have blamed Locke for laughing at her, but he was too busy trying to guide the ship into a clear landing. 

To his credit, the general did not look surprised at her request. His face was the very definition of ‘unconvinced’ though. She carried on before she could think better of it. 

“I’m not an ordinary soldier. I’ve trained for this. That’s why I’m accompanying you to begin with. If you are going to drag me out of Atlas, at least let me do my job!”

She hadn’t intended to snap out that last sentence. If she’d heard anyone else speaking to him like that, she would have gone out of her way to deliver a sharp reprimand. She held her breath, wondering if she had gone too far. 

“I’m not doubting your skill. But all that risk and we don’t even know if there’ll be anyone left to save...”

It was a terrible thing to say but it was the thing every soldier on the ship was thinking. They would still need to neutralise the Grimm but doing so in a blizzard would be nigh impossible. Word of the attack on the mining town Lazuli had got to Atlas only hours ago but it had taken precious time to put together a team and mobilise. The townspeople didn’t have the luxury of time. Sometimes there were survivors from attacks like this and sometimes there weren’t. It would be impossible to know until they arrived on the scene.

“There’s still a chance. And either way - protocol states that copilots are mandatory, doesn’t it?”

“There’s really no stopping you, is there?”

At that, she smiled. Unstoppable. She’d take that. “I’m afraid not.”

“Very well, then.”

 

Xxx

The specialist ship Gallant was not exactly a luxury build. There were two sections - the pilot’s cabin and a bay for soldiers or cargo. It was a tiny thing compared to what Winter was used to. It was usually used to get supplies out to Lazuli, which often suffered blizzards. She privately began to wonder about the general’s plan - surely a tiny thing like this would easily be battered about on the gale force winds of the storm? 

There was not really room for a whole squad of AK-200s. The general had overestimated the size of the ship and underestimated the weight of themselves, plus two weeks worth of food and water for if they got stuck. 

In the end, they took two Knights. These were a little bulkier than the regular kind and made of special materials that could withstand the extreme cold - they were called Templars. Winter didn’t mind working alongside the knights. She’d heard other soldiers complain they were slow to react and their limited AI made them difficult to use. Though the Knights were shaped like people, they weren’t designed to act like them and that seemed to cause confusion. If battle were a performance, Winter knew they were merely back up dancers to her main act. And she liked it that way. 

There was time for a quick meal in the outpost canteen. She ate quickly, not really having much of an appetite. 

The sound of footsteps made her flick her gaze up from her paltry meal. They weren’t heavy enough to be General Ironwood, so she wasn’t surprised when she saw Locke standing there instead. He looked a little less flushed with worry now he was off the plane, but his dark hair was still sticking up in tufts from where he’d been running his fingers through it. 

“Operative Schnee. Is there anything else you require for the mission?”

“No. I believe we are fully prepared.”

“The Gallant is designed for storms so she flies a little differently. She’s able to go much faster than our standard models. You need to be quick on the steering, slow on the brakes. I’d say turn back if you need to but I know you won’t.”

“We will turn back when we’ve completed the mission.”

“The mission isn’t everything. May I speak freely?”

Winter frowned. It was an inappropriate request. But Locke seemed sincere and he was someone she trusted. Atlesian pilots were either very young or very old. Locke was crossing the bridge between those two categories. “I can hardly say no.”

“If it gets too dangerous, get the general out of there. He might actually listen to you.”

Winter opened her mouth to protest and then closed it. Locke was right. The general did listen to her but that was because she had earned her rank. Locke was one of their best but he was still just a pilot. If a Grimm sneezed on him, he’d be toast. 

The Gallant rattled when it took off. Winter was used to flying but the shaking was a bit much, even for a seasoned traveller like her. General Ironwood was ready for a fight. He kept putting his hand on his gun, as if to check it was still there.

While he took the controls, Winter was left to try and make sense of the navigation system. It was Atlas standard but she was used to a newer interface and the leap back was a little disorientating. At least it was a distraction from the discomfort of the storm and whatever waited for them at Lazuli.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn’t quite a crash but neither was it a gentle landing. The ship slid into the landing bay jerkily. The flight had been one of the toughest Winter had ever experienced. Somehow they’d kept going - but the little craft had been tossed and battered, leaving Winter and General Ironwood hanging on for dear life. 

Lazuli’s landing bays were bare bones. There were only two and they only had charging facilities, nothing like the ports at Atlas which had cafes, luggage storage and roomy lounges broadcasting the local news. 

“Apologies for the rough landing,” said General Ironwood. He seemed remarkably unruffled by their flight. 

“It was fine,” she lied. It had made her teeth rattle but at least they were alive. 

There hadn’t been a clear view of the town from above - everything was obscured by streams of snowflakes. Winter was bristling with anticipation but there was work to do before they could go and look for survivors. She dared hope it wasn’t as bad as the reports made out. 

“I’ll hook the Gallant up to the charging station,” she said. 

The landing bay was essentially four sheets of corrugated metal with an opening to fly through at the top. It was big but not fancy. Lazuli had been on the airship bay upgrade programme for a while. Winter guessed they might be able to strike it off...until someone else decided the worth of the dust outweighed the risk of death. And then another person decided the same. And then her father got involved and the Schnee Dust Company were paying people a pittance to spend their lives mining and being hounded by Grimm.  
It had happened before. 

Hooking the ship to the charging port should have been easy except the lead it used didn’t seem to be compatible. It was probably too new. Winter hunted around for an adapter and came up short. She spotted a tiny cabin in one corner that at one time would have contained a hangar supervisor but presently contained nobody. Perhaps if she searched in there…

When she pushed open the door, the inside of the cabin was a wreck, like someone had tipped everything out in a hurry. She kicked at the debris until she could locate what she was looking for. Perhaps the mess was because someone had used a ship to escape? As she was already inside, she took a look at the primitive screens set up at the back to see if she could find out. They wouldn’t power on until she gave one of them a swift kick. Old technology was like that.

The blurry display gave her a reading of the weather and radar spots. She pressed keys until she found historical readings. 

One ship had departed that morning. It was impossible to find out much about it, except that it had been a passenger ship and it had been cleared for take off much more quickly than usual. That suggested an emergency evacuation, which was about what she expected. 

Armed with the adapter and this promising new information, she headed back to power up the ship. Hopefully the power lines hadn’t been compromised by the attack - she didn’t really want to have to refuel manually. 

When she got back inside the ship, Winter immediately knew something was wrong. General Ironwood was hunched in the pilot’s seat, head in his hands.

“General?”

“I scanned for human life signs. There’s nothing. Not a single one.”

Winter swallowed. “A ship took off from here. This morning. It might have taken the survivors.”

“One ship from a town that contained a population of 1000 plus. Winter, at most it might have been carrying one hundred. Probably not even that.”

“There were others who got out. They told us about the attacks.”

The look on his face was hollow. “We came all this way for nothing. The ship didn’t even pick up any Grimm activity. They’ve gone.”

There was nothing she could say. It was a moment where if she were feeling braver, she might put a hand on his shoulder and offer comfort that way.   
“Neither of us should risk our necks out there if there’s no one to save. It’s dark and the conditions are still vicious.”

She looked at the Templars, ready and waiting for orders. 

“Let’s send the Templars out. They can do surveillance for us and run further life sign checks.”

General Ironwood sat up straight, regaining his composure now there was something to do. “Yes, that sounds wise. Morning is only a few hours away. Let’s try and get some sleep, we’re both exhausted. I’ll set an alarm for any signs of Grimm activity.”


	3. Chapter 3

The sound of someone shouting jolted Winter awake. She reached for her sword and rose as quietly as possible. Her coat was creased from where she’d been huddled up in it, but the cry came again and she didn’t have time to smooth down the cumbersome garment. Someone needed help and they needed it now.

The ship’s emergency lighting flashed on as she raced through the narrow corridor. The carnage had seemed pretty thorough but perhaps she and the general had missed something? Maybe there were survivors in the town after all? The crying got louder and louder. Winter’s heart thumped and she tightened her grip on her swords. 

Then Winter stopped. The sound was too close to be from outside. It was coming from inside the ship. 

“General Ironwood?” she called out, suddenly sick with worry. If something was attacking the general, if anything happened to him...she couldn’t think about it. Her heart raced, desperate to get to him as quickly as possible.

The general was sleeping in the pilot’s cabin. This time she didn’t knock, just smacked the button that would give her access and prepared herself to attack. The second it took for the door to slide open was the slowest second of her life.

Inside the cabin, the emergency lighting cast deep shadows. Winter came to a confused halt. There was nothing inside the cabin. No Grimm, anyway. Just General Ironwood, stretched out in a sleeping bag. Somehow he’d slept through the commotion she was making. 

Then the general cried out, a sound so hopeless that it turned her heart inside out. It all became clear - the source of the noise had been him. And had been loud enough for her to hear two rooms down. All she’d heard was someone having a bad dream - and no wonder, given their day. Winter sheathed her sword, glad there was nothing for her sleep fogged brain to fight after all. 

I should wake him, thought Winter. Then she realised there was no protocol for when your commanding officer was having nightmares and hesitated. Would that be inappropriate? How was she going to do it?

“General?” she said, hoping he would wake at the sound of her voice. He didn’t even stir. That meant Winter would have to touch him. Fine. She could shake him by the shoulder. 

Winter tried her best to be gentle. His shoulder felt cold and stiff and belatedly she realised she was trying to shake the one made of metal! Her face flushed and she felt foolish. Waking the general was one thing but she was pretty sure shaking him by the metal shoulder was very against protocol.

It didn’t matter either way. The general began to rouse. “Winter?” He blinked back sleep but to her relief he didn’t seem to be angry with her. He rubbed at his metal forearm, face distant. Was he in pain?

Winter didn’t know what to say other than the truth. “I decided it best to wake you. Is there anything I can do to help, sir?”

General Ironwood didn’t speak for a moment. Both of them were military trained and military training offered no help with discussing emotion. The awkwardness stretched on. Their breath puffed out in front of them, the only sound other than the hum of the ship.

“I apologise for waking you,” he said in the end. “And for putting you in danger. I know negative emotions aren’t something we need right now…”

“There’s no need to apologise. I...I was worried about you.” Winter took a breath. She was about to propose something that was far too presumptuous. “Perhaps I should stay in here, if you are prone to bad dreams. That way, we will be together if we’re attacked.”

General Ironwood frowned, clearly thinking as he studied her. She became very aware that her hair was falling down, her coat was crumpled and her eyes were filled with sleep dust. The urge to fidget was strong but Winter forced herself still, straightening her back and looking him in the eye. 

“As long as you’re comfortable, I’d be happy with that arrangement. Though I’m afraid there isn’t much room in here.”

Winter looked around and realised he was right about there not being very much room. She’d have to lay her sleeping bag out only inches from his. Not that it mattered. If it meant protecting the general, she could put up with being a little cramped. 

“That will be fine,” she said and left to fetch the sleeping bag. 

XxX

As Winter fussed with the sleeping bag, the general fumbled around in his satchel and took out a pack of pills. He caught her curious gaze. 

“Painkillers,” he explained. He attempted to press one out but his hand was shaking too much. Winter wondered if the nightmares had affected him more than he was letting on.

“Let me,” she said, reaching to take the packet from him. She pressed out the pills and handed the pack back. He took them immediately, expertly dry swallowing without hesitation. 

“Seems I’m stuck being a useless old man today,” he said. He was trying for a joking tone but underneath it he sounded tired and sad. 

“You’re hardly old,” said Winter. “And the leader of the Atlesian Military can’t really call himself useless.”

“True enough, I suppose. How are you doing, Winter?”

“I am fine. Thank you for asking, sir.”

“And how are you really doing?”

It's an echo of a conversation they've had before. Winter knew her response had been cold. The general was someone she trusted but she'd been that way so long the response came without her thinking about it. She tried again. 

“I'm a little cold.”

To her surprise, he laughed. “Subzero temperatures and you're only a little cold? You never cease to amaze me, Winter. Any other soldier would have complained hours ago.”

“And why is that? It hardly seems important right now.”

“You came because you were worried about me, didn't you? Now, maybe that's because without me you think Atlas will be in danger. Or you're worried you won't make it back to civilisation without me to help pilot the ship. Or maybe you thought Grimm would attack. But I don't think it was any of those things. I think the way I felt was important to you.”

Winter pursed her lips. He was right. If he'd asked her for a reason she'd come running, she'd cite one of the things he said. But none of them were wholly true. She felt foolish, having someone read her so easily. 

“So can you accept that the way you're feeling is important to me too?”

Winter wasn’t sure how to begin formulating a response. She could understand what he was saying to her. But she couldn’t help but feel she was best when she was acting according to how she was supposed to act. Most things she did in her day to day life had an invisible script to them that she’d studied inside and out. An interaction like this didn’t come with a script. That made it more precious but also put her on edge. Maybe this time she’d take a risk, though. She trusted him. 

“If you wish to really know how I am feeling then, sir...I am cold and tired. I am sad we couldn’t complete the mission. And I am worried about you. Coming here was reckless.”

“I have to protect the people.”

“Sir, I know it’s not my place...but the fall of Beacon wasn’t your fault. You don’t need to do anything to make up for it.”

“You’re right, it isn’t your place.”

Winter said nothing more. She’d never had him snap at her. Usually if a man snapped at her she gave as good as she got but this time she didn’t feel up to it. Mentally, she replayed their conversation, trying to work out where it had gone wrong. She was forced to conclude that trying to discuss something so personal to the general had made the situation worse. The fact that she’d hurt the person whose opinion she cared about the most stung deeper than anything had in a while. It took a couple of breaths to calm herself and bury the pain away.

“Winter? I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I know you’re only trying to help and I was the one who asked for your thoughts.”

“No. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m sorry for your loss...I know Professor Ozpin was very dear to you.”

“Thank you.”

Winter unzipped the sleeping bag and climbed inside. The two of them were quiet. She was close enough that she could hear his breath rising and falling. 

“We are both exhausted. Let’s get some rest,” she said. “Please wake me if you need anything.”

“Good night, Winter. I appreciate your concern. Even if I’m not good at showing it.”

“I understand. Good night.”

The general fell asleep first. Winter continued to try and ignore the hurt he’d inflicted on her. Even if it had only been because he was tired and she’d hit upon a sensitive subject. He had apologised but...

It was your fault. You went too far, you said too much.

She glanced over. The general was so close that if she rolled over, she could press herself against him... Her face reddened with shame and embarrassment at having such a fantasy. Was she really so pathetic that she would give herself to anyone who showed her even a morsel of kindness? No. It was about wanting to share the burden he was carrying. It was too heavy for one person to hold and she cared about him as a person first and a general second. 

_Pull yourself together, Schnee. He is your commanding officer. Nothing could ever happen between you. These feelings are useless._


	4. Chapter 4

When Winter woke, it took her a moment to remember where she was. Something warm was pressed against her back and she stiffened before she realised it was just General Ironwood. He had edged closer to her in his sleep so they were back to back, probably because of the cold. It was tempting to just close her eyes and stay put - the position was odd but strangely comforting. 

Then she remembered they were stranded in a dead mining town and the sooner they could leave, the better. She couldn’t hear or feel the wind battering the ship anymore, so maybe the blizzard had passed. 

She eased herself out of her sleeping bag, flattened her hair and decided what she really needed was some tea. Her favourite had always been a mixed berry herbal blend but that was a rare treat. All she had to look forward to this morning was bland military teabags. 

General Ironwood stirred and mumbled a sleepy good morning. He still looked tired and Winter wondered if he’d had any more nightmares. He rubbed his eyes and the gesture seemed odd on him; it was strangely human and vulnerable for someone she had only previously seen as a pillar of perfect strength. That vulnerability made him all the more appealing. She wished she could tell him that without it being inappropriate and/or it offending him.

“The Templars didn’t come back,” he said, sounding both bewildered and indignant. Winter offered no comment but she wasn’t surprised. The storm had been bad and a dozen things could have happened: crushed by falling debris, fallen down a gap, destroyed by confused survivors...

As Winter was making the tea, she heard the general go outside, presumably to look for the knights and start running through their ship safety checks. It would take about thirty minutes and then, providing the weather held, they could be on their way. 

The mission had been unsatisfying but Winter hoped they’d find out what had happened to the missing passenger ship once they were back at the outpost. 

Winter was pouring the tea when she heard it. A deep, guttural sound that made the ship vibrate beneath her boots. She dropped the cup she was holding and spilled the tea, splashing herself with hot water. There was no time to worry about it. A gun fired, one, two, three, four shots. Then she heard the sound of metal clanging and her heart leapt.

“General!”

Winter ran for her sword. More gunshots sounded, a steady rhythm...but getting further away. The general must be trying to lead whatever he was firing at away from the ship. 

She ran outside. The sky had cleared and the sun was peeking through the clouds. The ground was still covered in snow, ankle deep. It was nothing Winter wasn’t used to. Ordinarily, these conditions would make for an above average day but it was hard to enjoy it when she could still hear gunshots. They had ramped up in frequency. 

General Ironwood was just outside the landing bay. She saw him first, still firing, and the creature second. There were houses on three sides but she could tell at a glance they were empty - no smell of cooking or glow of fire. Some of them looked ripped into and debris was scattered everywhere. The crumbled remains of a fountain stood in the centre of the area.

The Grimm was grotesque, but they always were. This one was furred all over, a black deeper than anything manmade, with yellow eyes buried in a white tufted head. It was bipedal, with two legs thick as tree trunks and arms that dragged along the ground. 

Finally, a fight. Winter was almost glad of it. She could do with working off some tension and what better way than battering the Grimm that had devoured an entire town. She had no doubt it had been the work of this Grimm. She could sense the way it was trying to poke at her consciousness and cloud her mind with fear and panic. That was something only powerful Grimm could do. 

Bullets didn’t seem to phase it much. It lurched forwards with surprising speed and General Ironwood leapt clear. Winter decided to go on the offensive while it didn’t seem to have noticed her. She glyphed herself forwards, aiming for a test strike to give her some idea of what was under all that fur. Skin? Bone? Armoured plating? It was anyone’s guess.

Her blow landed on the Grimm’s shoulder with the military precision she’d worked so hard to achieve. It didn’t do her much good, however. Her sword practically bounced off the creature. She fell back, puzzled and was sent flying by one of the thing’s oversized arms.

“Winter!”

Winter felt a sense of vague satisfaction at not being ‘Schnee’ today and then realised she should probably right herself. The glyphs that had once seemed so frightening and unpredictable to her were now something she could use on instinct. The sound they made cleared her head, made it easier to think. She landed neatly in the snow, next to where General Ironwood was prepping his gun with more dust rounds. 

“Orders, sir?”

He spared her a quick glance but otherwise kept his gaze fixed on the Grimm. 

“Lure it further from the ship. Then get out of the way.”

“Understood.”

Winter surged forwards. If she could just keep the Grimm busy, keep it chasing her...She knew the general was hoping to use some of the more powerful rounds, the ones that would explode on impact. 

The Grimm came forward to meet her. It unhinged its jaw and all she could see was teeth: sharp, pointed and coming right at her. She veered off to the side, skidding in the snow. It was not exactly graceful and she was glad her shoes had been made with extra grip for fighting on ice. Now seemed like a good time to divide her swords, so she did just that. Now she could use one to protect herself and one to go on the offensive. 

But where could she aim? Eyes, mouth...limbs? Maybe joints would be less armoured…

Her mind was made up for her. The Grimm lurched, claws outstretched. She dodged below and brought her sword up, hoping to hack at its wrist. Her efforts produced a howl of rage or pain - she had no idea which. Grimm didn’t bleed but the wound emitted smoke, evidence that she’d at least done some damage. 

The Grimm swung its other arm at her and she rolled along the ground. It was cold and extremely unpleasant but not as much as getting clawed up. Unfortunately, she’d now put herself below it and its body loomed over her, surrounding her on all sides. Black as black, blocking out the light, she was close enough to smell blood and her heart thrummed in protest. 

A glyph could get her out of this. She went for an uppercut to the jaw, sword whistling through the air. As she leapt, she heard a shot and felt rather than saw it slam into the side of the Grimm. She glyphed herself up and away, hoping she’d be fast enough to avoid being set alight.

The explosion from the round rattled the windows of the houses and threw her completely off balance. Winter could smell singed fur and see flames smouldering on the Grimm’s body. She landed heavily in the snow. The Grimm’s shadow dwarfed her again and she didn’t have time to right herself or do anything about the claws bearing down on her. 

CLANG.

General Ironwood had come to meet it. Grunting with effort, he managed to throw its arms away from her. Winter didn’t have time to thank him - she used the precious seconds he’d won for her to set up her next attack. A stab to the back should give it some food for thought. Flames were still alight there, hopefully damaging whatever armour it had hidden under the fur. 

Her sword sank in, deep. If she could just keep going, if she could find its heart...she readied a glyph to help her force it further but before she could activate it, the Grimm roared again. Perhaps sensing its end was nigh, it whirled itself round faster than it had done previously. Its claws met Winter’s flesh. She felt it scrape down her arm and end somewhere down her back. Something sticky ran down her arm. Bleeding. Bleeding was bad. She dropped her short sword, unable to retain her grip. Her other sword was still buried in the creature’s back, so now she was effectively weaponless. 

The smell of blood filled her nostrils, the Grimm’s teeth snapped towards her, coming to finish the job. Glyphs...she could use glyphs...not enough aura for a summon… but her mind felt dull and slow. 

Then General Ironwood was above her. She was tossed over his shoulder and he could move surprisingly quickly for someone who was half metal. She always forgot that. 

“Ugh,” she groaned. She wanted to voice a complaint at being bumped around but couldn’t find the words. A dramatic rescue should feel better than this. 

“I am not losing you like this, Winter.”

There was something dark there, an edge in his voice that she wished she could smooth. She knew what he really meant was that he wasn’t going to lose anyone else. 

“Grimm, sir,” she said, her voice much too weak for her liking. “We have to kill it.”

“You already did a number on it. It won’t last long. We should run.”

“It’s got my sword,” she said and then she coughed because her throat felt claggy. 

“OK. Wait here.”

Winter was deposited next to one of the empty houses. Her blood dripped onto the snow, the colour beautiful and dreadful. She didn’t have time to ask what the general was thinking before she heard the soft pat of his steps in the snow. 

Sitting up was an effort but she managed to do both that and focus her vision, which felt like an achievement. Grimm. General. For something that was supposedly dying, it seemed pretty lively still. The flames from the explosive seemed to have gone out now and the general was back to bullets, which seemed to do the grand sum of nothing. The creature swung its arms and she saw that it was quicker than he was...if she didn’t do something... Without thinking, she reached out and...glyph. 

General Ironwood glanced back at her as he was propelled out of reach. Then he nodded. He would need her if he hoped to match its pace. Winter could see her sword, sticking straight up out of the Grimm’s back.

“The sword!” Winter called. 

He understood her at once. The revolver was tossed aside and he flexed his metal hand. She willed one last series of glyphs into life and he bent his knees, ready. The Grimm snapped its jaws but the general was already gone, catapulted back and forth from glyph to glyph until he could grab the sheath of Winter’s sword. Using his metal arm, he wrenched it free. The Grimm screamed and he fell.

With a clunk, he landed on his feet, snow puffing up from the impact. The Grimm sank down and then began to fade away into smoke. 

As the general looked back at her, they shared a brief smile before Winter felt herself sag under the pain of her wound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it's not too dull to read? I'm working on writing action sequences
> 
> I love that in RWBY 'glyphed' is an acceptable verb


	5. Chapter 5

“It’s just a scratch,” Winter insisted. She was over the shock of it now and the pain had dulled. The general ignored her and ripped her coat so he could get a better look at the wound. The scratch arced over her shoulder and down her back. Hearing the fabric rip made her wince. Maybe if she was feeling particularly fanciful she'd imagine the general ripping her clothes off - but not like this. Right now she felt as unsexy as possible, sticky with sweat and blood. 

“Don't shift around so much, you'll make the bleeding worse.”

They had made it back to the ship without further incident. Even inside the ship, the air was so cold it stung her bare skin. At least General Ironwood’s touch was faintly warming.

He was silent and Winter turned her head to check what he was doing. She saw the sleeve of her coat, soaked with blood. Was...was that all hers? Panic rose inside her. Had the cold numbed her so much that she wasn’t feeling the pain? Would she start to feel it as she warmed up? 

“Tell me the correct procedure for treating a Grimm scratch or bite,” said the general, a note of authority in his voice.

“Apply pressure to stop the bleeding. Bathe the wound.”

“Good.”

Winter heard him cut the gauze roll they kept in their standard issue first aid kits. He used his gloved hand to press down on her shoulder.

“Does that feel cold?”

She shook her head. 

“This hand is a bit more efficient at keeping pressure steady,” he explained. “But if it feels cold or starts to hurt, tell me straight away. I'm wearing gloves but it's best to be safe. ”

“Understood.”

“Tell me the rest of the procedure.”

Winter took a breath. It was safe to say that General Ironwood knew the procedure. He was just trying to keep her talking so she didn't panic. She would humour him, then. 

“Apply antiseptic and then wrap to keep it clean.”

“Good. List the previous headmasters of Atlas Academy.”

Winter recited the list. She had no idea if it was correct or not and she got the feeling he didn't either. Both of them would have been able to recall it without question on their respective graduation days. Her graduation felt far in the past. A different life. She'd been stupid then, a hot-headed little rookie with everything to prove. The sixteen hour days she worked set an impossible standard for the rest of her squad. That was when they'd first spoken properly, as something other than student and teacher. He had pulled her aside to tell her there was maybe something more useful she could be doing… 

She jumped when she felt something cold touch her shoulder and then realised it was just General Ironwood washing the wound, making sure it wouldn’t get infected. 

“Are you hurt?” she asked him, realising she hadn’t checked. She had seen him take a few hits but they hadn’t seemed to have much effect on him. Did he feel pain when the metal parts of him were hit?

“Not even a scratch. Must be my lucky day.”

“You don’t need to act modest to make me feel better.”

At that he laughed. She flushed thinking he was mocking her and turned her face away, ashamed.

“Winter, don’t look like that. I’m sorry, I always forget that I can’t get anything passed you.”

“Next time I’ll be quicker.”

“There was nothing you could have done to avoid the hit. Sometimes combat just works like that. Try not to take it so hard.”

She dared glance back at him. His face seemed to match the sincerity of his words. There was not a trace of mockery to be found. He had moved on to covering the wound, carefully taping the dressing into place. 

“It’s always a pleasure to fight alongside you, sir. I just wish you didn’t have to cover for my mistakes.”

“I’m your general. I’m the reason you’re out here. It’s my job to protect you.”

And he had protected her. Always. Not just in the field, but out of it too. He had given her a purpose outside of being a Schnee, believed she could make it through the academy when no one else had. Thanks to him she had at last found a home, an identity, a place she belonged. Everything she was she owed him. 

When their eyes met, there was a thrum of something between them. Something more than trust, something more than an understanding between teacher and student, commanding officer and soldier. Winter didn’t want to let that feeling go and so she didn’t give herself time to think.

Winter reached out for the general, took a handful of his coat and dragged him down, close enough for her to do what she wanted. He looked surprised - maybe even shocked - but didn’t stop her so she closed her eyes and kissed him. She kissed him like it was her right, like it was something she'd always been entitled to. More than anything, she wished that Atlas didn’t need their general so he could belong to her alone.

General Ironwood cupped her chin and stroked her jaw. He did not kiss her back. She broke away, face burning, panic rising, wondering if she should apologise and then realising she wasn't sorry. 

“Winter, I can’t,” he said. Quiet. Sad. But not angry.

“Why?”

“You know why. It would be wrong of me to take advantage of you. You’re one of my subordinates.”

“What if I weren’t? What if things were different?”

“Things are what they are.”

“But-”

I love you.

It was on the tip of her tongue. She swallowed the words before they could make it out. The rejection stung more than she could have imagined, even if it was the sensible thing. The right thing. “I fight for Atlas, yes, but I also fight for you. For the world you want to make.”

“I know. And I need you to help me make that world a reality. I can’t risk losing you.” He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. “You feel a little cold...”

She frowned. “I am.” But the cold hardly mattered right now. There was still more to say. 

“Perhaps it would be warmer if we sat together.”

It took Winter a couple of seconds before she realised what he meant. The sting of rejection dulled, just a little.

“I would be grateful for the assistance.”

The general sat next to her and then wrapped his non-metal arm around her shoulders. Letting herself go completely was a challenge but she knew she might not get the chance to again. The position was certainly warmer and the general’s touch calmed her. It was easy to get comfortable in his arms. Dangerously easy, for both of them. 

Winter had always known things would end in this way. The general she loved was not a man who would compromise his principles for her. If he had kissed her back, agreed to conduct an affair with her… She would have thought less of both him and herself. 

When they got back to Atlas, everything that had passed between them would have to become invisible, for both their sakes. But for now, Winter would make the most of what she had. One day, she hoped, their time would come. 

For now, she lay her head on the general’s shoulder, like she had always longed to do and closed her eyes.


End file.
